


if these walls could talk

by scootsin



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Billford - Freeform, Body Worship, Bondage, Bottom Bill Cipher, Bottom Ford Pines, Breathplay, Choking, Emotional Manipulation, Human Bill Cipher, Humiliation, I need sleep, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Possession, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Tentacles, Top Bill Cipher, Top Ford Pines, Triangle Bill Cipher, bill has weird biology, ford is a sweetie and i love him, god that hurt to type LMFAO, more tags to come, that sweet succulent triangle bussy, they switch a lot lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26061199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scootsin/pseuds/scootsin
Summary: || previously posted on wattpad with the title "the billford smut NOBODY asked for" ||it's all just smut. straight up sex. ford fucks the triangle, and the triangle fucks ford.  they hate each other, but also don't. contains both pre and post betrayal ford, and may even include weirdmageddon.contains both human bill and triangle bill, because honestly...i can't decide which i like writing better :)
Relationships: Bill Cipher/, Bill Cipher/Ford Pines
Comments: 11
Kudos: 65





	1. shut up

**Author's Note:**

> it's currently just past four in the morning, and i've just now finished this oneshot. it's taken about... three days? one of those days was just me re-reading what i had and going "hmm...NO. SCRAP IT ALL." 
> 
> so i rewrote it and made it LONGER. i love to torture myself :)
> 
> anyway! bill's an annoying little shit who bottoms for his hot science boyfriend. ford just wants bill to shut up.
> 
> (it ends in fluff because FUCK YOU, I LIKE A HAPPY ENDING >:0)
> 
> there's not a lot of bottom!bill content and i am here to FILL THAT VOID.  
> so buckle up, bitches and read this shitty fucking story before i change my mind and delete it.

Even before he looks up from his work, Ford knows who entered the room. Who else would stand just past the door, eyes probably on the shelves of items and papers he's not allowed to touch? And for good reason, too. Waddles is still terrified of popsicles after the...incident.

After a short pause, Ford sighs. "Don't even think about opening the infinity-sided die, Bill."

The demon freezes, that exact die in his hand. With an irritated grumble, he puts it back. "You're no fun anymore. It wasn't even that bad the last time."

"You're such a liar," is all Ford says, as if it weren't already obvious.

Bill grins, coming up behind him. He leans heavily onto Ford's shoulder, one arm slinging around his body in a kind of halfway hug. It's irritating how he just claims people like that, with no respect for boundaries at all. "We're _well_ past that, IQ. Whatcha doing?"

Ford bristles at the unexpected contact, shrugging Bill's arm off. "I'm reviewing Dipper's entries in the third journal," he says after a moment of silence. "Separate copies, of course. There's no way I'm even looking at it in front of you." His eyes narrow as they meet Bill's, driving his point home.

That last part was meant to be a dig, meant to remind Bill that _oh yeah, I still hate your guts. I don't trust you, and I likely never will._

It certainly didn't seem to faze the demon, who merely reassumed his position. His fingers picked at the shoulder of Ford's coat, brushing off imaginary lint.

"What's the worst I could do to that old thing anyway? Spill coffee on it? Please. This body's basically killed my powers, and you know it."

He went blessedly quiet for a moment, eyes moving over the blue inked scrawls that differed so much from Ford's careful cursive. "Leaf blowers, huh?"

He rested his chin in that junction between Ford's neck and shoulder, deliberately pressing down harder than he needed to. No boundaries, again. "You're sure he's the smart twin?"

Ford jerked his shoulder again, driving Bill up and away. "I don't need commentary. Go upstairs, make yourself useful." He kept his back turned, unwilling to even look at him. Unwilling to be swayed by that innocently human face, the devil himself in a flesh suit. "Don't do anything stupid."

Bill tsked, hands running over Ford's shoulders as he still remained close. "You're always telling me what to do. Always giving me orders."

His fingers crept up over Ford's neck, lightly caressing the skin in a shockingly familiar manner. Almost petting him. Lowering his voice to a vibrating murmur, Bill chuckled. "How about I tell you what to do for a change, eh? Sound good?"

Ford tilted his head away from the contact, but his resistance proved futile when the demon slung one long leg over his lap. Whatever half-baked response he was forming died in his throat when he saw what was in those eyes.

 _Sex_.

"Bill, we-we don't have time for this," he protested, but instead of pushing him away, Ford's traitorously wanton hands pulled him closer. He hated that this was what he wanted, _who_ he wanted, but his hands still tugged at the demon's shirt.

They did, in fact, have time for this. Both of them were off the clock, and it was late at night. Not a soul around, no one to interrupt.

Smirking, Bill rocked his hips obscenely, creating a brief, addictive friction between their legs. "Then let's make it quick, Fordsy."

They didn't waste much time on foreplay, just tangling up in a mess of limbs and kisses and bites and short, hungry sounds. The chair squeaked under their combined weight, and so they moved to the floor. Dirty, like animals.

Ford supposed there was some pleasure to be found in this, some silver lining in the contact of another body after so long. At this point, did it matter whose lips were kissing him? Whose hands snaked up into his hair, pulling it just like that?

 _A body's a body_ , he rationalized.

Soon enough, their clothes were gone. Was the door to the lab even locked? Ford didn't remember. But the (admittedly small) possibility of being caught in the act didn't bother him nearly as much as it should have.

Bill held his face in his hands, thumbs stroking over his old friend's cheeks almost reverently. His kisses were anything but gentle, a stark contrast to those touches.

Neither of them cared enough to point out the roughness of this whole thing. In fact, they sort of welcomed it. Ford certainly didn't object to the bites along his neck and shoulders. Neither did Bill, who was awfully chatty whether he was being bitten or not.

"You never told me you got these..." he hummed, running a finger over the tattoo of his image. His real image, not this human ball-and-chain. His own zodiac rendered in black ink over Ford's chest.

"...I assumed you knew. And you never told me about yours either." Ford placed his palm over the twin black lines, as thick as two fingers, that encircled Bill's left bicep. They were mirrored on his right thigh.

"Of course I knew, Sixer. I wanted to hear it from you, you know? But mine are just decoration. Yours have... _significance_."

The only way to get Bill to shut up was to occupy his mouth, a lesson Ford remembered from better days. Back when they spent many nights like this, during the pre-portal days.

Those days were dead, and they'd been replaced by rougher, sharper versions. Funnily enough, fucking your enemy was a lot of fun. Who would've thought?

As usual, Bill was three steps ahead, already broken from the harsh kiss and sucking on his fingers. He wiggled his eyebrows at Ford while doing so, something that made his already hard cock stiffen some more. "Can't fuck without lube," the demon muttered to himself.

There was actual lube in one of the drawers, but Ford couldn't remember which one. "It'll sting more if you only use spit. I could-"

With his free hand, Bill held him down. "Not so fast. A little pain never stopped me, brainiac. In fact, it's more exciting that way."

He tilted his head, eyes glittering. "I know _you_ agree with me, don'tcha?"

Ford wasn't as much of a pain slut as Bill, not by a long shot. Sure, the occasional scratch or bite was fine, but he did prefer comfort. "Whatever makes you shut up faster," was all he responded with.

Bill made a show of it, making sure that he had an audience while he fucked himself with his fingers. Ford was content just listening, though, hearing those hisses and gasps and low moans the demon tried to stifle.

"It would feel better if these were your fingers..." Bill mused, still unable to keep his tongue under control. "You do this one thing I really like, but I can almost-"

His sentence cut off as he replicated that movement, something involving a twisting motion that made a high, needy sound escape him.

Ford had to admit, Bill knew how to please an audience. His cock, which was being slowly stroked at the moment, seemed to agree. "Seems like you're just fine without my assistance."

When he could stand it no longer, Bill crawled closer, taking Ford's cock and lining it up with his entrance. He hesitated, though, which was a bit odd considering how eager he was to fuck earlier. Glancing up, the demon asked, "You still hate me?" with his usual smirk.

Ford grit his teeth. "Of course I do."

Bill smiled. "You say the sweetest things."

Enough was enough. Ford grabbed the demon's sides and pulled him slowly, carefully down, sheathing himself inside. Bill's head fell forward, and he shivered, whispering something in his own dimension's language.

"Do you ever shut up?" Ford asked quietly, rocking his lower half up and into the demon. Taking control of the pace, starting off with a speed they both liked. It wouldn't last for long, as Ford tended to be a bit of a control freak.

"Hang on, let me think..." Bill picked up the rhythm, grinding down onto Ford's cock as he pretended to be deep in thought. "Nope. You'll just have to deal with it, won't you, Poindexter?"

"I don't want to have to." Ford held the demon loosely around the waist, their bodies moving in sync as they chased their own pleasures. It felt sort of like a test, each trying to sabotage the other into cumming first.

Bill kept trying to wrestle back into control, an annoyed growl escaping him when Ford insisted on holding him in place.

"I'm on top, so _let go._ "

Ford just tightened his hold, intentionally scraping his nails along the warm skin. "You might be on top, but _I'm_ still fucking you."

He raised an eyebrow, an uncharacteristic cockiness beginning to take over. Honestly, he welcomed the feeling, as it was a nice change from Bill having all the fun.

The demon braced himself, hands gripping Ford's shoulders. "Alright wise guy, _a-aah_ , fuck you, Sixer!"

Ford had pulled him down a little rougher that time, earning a startled moan and a buck of the hips. "Y-you can't....you can't j-just, _ohh_..."

The demon sputtered indignantly, becoming increasingly pliant in Ford's hands. Submission wasn't something he was used to yet, but they had plenty of time to make him learn.

"Can't just...what, _this_?" Ford thrusted sharply into Bill, who groaned something indecipherable and lowered his head. Good.

"I think you'll find that I _can_ , and that I _will_ ," he murmured, lips finding Bill's neck.

And from then on, all hell broke loose.

Ford fucked him with a little something new, alternating between a fast, punishing pace and a slow, sensual one. The unpredictability was obvious killing Bill, who writhed and begged with every movement.

"God, Fordsy, _I_ _can't_ \- I-I can't, you gotta give me more, _please_!"

"Be quiet, Bill," was the only answer he received.

His hips desperately ground down onto Ford's cock, the need so evident on his flushed face. "Ford, _please_..." he complained, completely ignoring what he was told.

"Quiet," Ford repeated, one hand slithering up over Bill's chest, over his torso, until it closed loosely around his neck. "You just don't shut up, do you?"

When no answer was given, his hand tightened, cutting off the demon's airway. " _Do you_?"

Bill swallowed, mouth opening to give a response he didn't have the breath for. Realizing that, he shook his head no as best as he could.

"No, you don't," Ford said, loving the way the tears gathered in those golden eyes. "You've always got something to say. Just listen to me, that's all you have to do. Understand?"

The demon narrowed those eyes, but only for a moment before he nodded. Submission looked so good on him.

Satisfied, Ford let go, and Bill took a deep, thankful breath. "Jeez, Sixer, where's that side of you been? That was great! You really-"

His words cut off in a startled yelp as Ford once again seized him by the throat.

"What don't you understand about _shut_ _up_?"

Ford slowed his pace until they basically were sitting still, which clearly touched a nerve. Bill writhed angrily, fighting for the dominance he felt he deserved.

" _Fuck you_!" he hissed, tone venomous.

"No, I fuck _you_ ," Ford said calmly, even smiling a little. "Well, I was. But you clearly don't deserve it, acting like that, do you?"

That put things into perspective. Bill averted his eyes, lips twisting into a scowl. It quickly disappeared when Ford pushed a bit deeper into him, replaced with a small, hungry smile.

"Just be quiet. That's all you have to do."

The demon nodded fervently, eager to get on with it already. His hands clutched at Ford's shoulders hard enough to leave scratches, and he practically shook with need.

Ford didn't fuck him just yet. His hand remained around Bill's throat, and his cock remained still and hard. "I'll need an apology from you, Bill."

He got an absolutely _murderous_ glare when he said that.

This was just _perfect_. Ford has never had the upper hand when it came to Bill, and now he was going to wheedle an entire apology out of him, just for sex. Oh, it was almost too good to be true. Ford loosened his hand so the demon could breathe enough to speak.

"...'m sorry," he finally said, trying to raise his hips even a little bit. "There, I did it, can you _please_ just-"

The hand tightened, and Bill went silent immediately.

Ford held him like that for a bit, savoring the look on his face. Eyes wide, face flushed, eager to please. After what seemed like ages, he smiled. "Good."

The hard, punishing pace resumed. The idea that this was Bill, this was the monster he'd been so afraid of, was absolutely mind-blowing. He had the most powerful demon there was begging to be fucked on the floor of his lab.

Not out loud, though. Ford's lesson had stuck with him, as Bill begged in silent movements now. He begged with his hands, with his eyes, and with the vulgar way he moved his hips.

His lips moved soundlessly once or twice, forming Ford's name. His real name, Stanford, such a rarity to hear off of that lying tongue.

Ford was nearing his climax, and his hand loosened up just a bit, just enough to hear that name.

Bill inhaled shakily, one of his hands grabbing Ford's wrist and pulling it back to his throat. " _P-please_ ," he whispered, not even caring about his vocal freedom, " _just fuck me, Stanford..."_

That was the last push that sent Ford over the edge. His grip tightened, and he came with a stifled combination between a curse and a moan.

Bill followed suit not too long after, his back arching until it looked as if it might break. He groaned helplessly, clinging to Ford.

They remained like that for some time, each trying to catch their breath and process what the hell happened.

Obviously, sex was what happened, but now wasn't the time to discuss why they just fucked on the floor of the lab. Now was the time to get into the shower and hopefully locate all articles of clothing once they got out.

"Thank God there's a shower down here," Ford thought aloud as he got to his feet. He extended a hand to Bill, who batted it away and got up on his own. "It'd be a nightmare, having to risk getting caught upstairs."

Rubbing his throat, Bill winced. "Your brother would have a heart attack, wouldn't he?" he asked, a crooked grin on his face.

Stanley wasn't exactly supportive of their relationship, and for good reason. Ford had no doubts that seeing proof of his brother and a demon fucking would send him into shock.

Having reached the door of the shower (it was actually a disinfecting booth, but it looked so much like a shower that the name stuck), Ford pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He averted his eyes when Bill came in after him, closing the door on the way. His neck was red, and some parts looked as if they were either hickeys or bruises.

"Does that hurt?" he asked, unable to help himself. If it did, Bill was probably into it. But still, they did just have sex. Ford felt it was polite to ask, even if it was an odd question.

"Not really. That was pretty great, actually, you going full ' _Dom Mode_ ' on me." The demon hooked his fingers into air quotes before turning on the water. "Have you always had a thing for choking?"

"I've always had a thing for making you shut up," Ford replied amiably, tilting his head back and letting the warm water run through his hair. "I didn't know all I had to do was choke you for it to happen."

Bill nudged him a little to the right, getting under the water as well. "Well, it's not the way I expected you to go. You really caught me by surprise, IQ, I've gotta say."

Ford's hands idly drift over Bill's sides, and before he can stop himself he's leaned in for a kiss.

This time, it's different. This kiss isn't the preamble for anything, it isn't rough or needy or dirty at all. It feels familiar, sweet and warm under the showerhead.

It feels nice.

This, what they have together, is nice. Even with all the fighting, even with all the history they have, all the bad blood and the _I-hate-yous_ and the rivalry, it's still nice.

Neither of them will admit just how nice it feels yet, though. Love, that tricky little word, hangs in the air, and yet neither of them can muster the guts to say it.

But they feel it, and that's what counts.


	2. wet dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey-o! back at it again because i'm unbelievably horny for stanford pines!
> 
> anyway...  
> human bill/pre-betrayal ford get it on in the mindscape. bill gives him a blowjob and thinks some thoughts.  
> it's a lot shorter than the last chapter because...idk. my motivation is kinda shitty at the moment, but whatever. 
> 
> bill's an asshole in denial, and ford is naive enough to fall for his shit. very, very, very inspired by @/puddingdipped on the tumblr, whose art is AWESOME.

_He's all mine._

Ford shivers, but those wonderful hands stay respectfully at his sides. His brown eyes slide shut, and he exhales, long and slow.

God, he's gorgeous, all broad shoulders and squared jaw, brown hair flopping over his forehead despite his best efforts.

Bill could just _devour_ him.

His hand moves a bit faster over Ford's shaft, coaxing out the prettiest sound he's ever heard. The cock in his hand is slick with precum, red and aching. It's been a while since they've done anything like this, and Bill didn't think Ford would be as into it as he is.

But Ford wants this so, so badly. Bill can hear it in his moans, see it in the way his hands curl into themselves and quiver, taste it on his tongue.

Ford's hips rut upwards, mindlessly chasing the heat of Bill's mouth. To reprimand him for that, the demon withdraws, flicking his tongue over the tip as soft as he can.

Ford utters a groaning sigh, shifting at the loss of contact.

"Patience," Bill coos, kissing the head of Ford's cock. It's salty and slick on his tongue, and he laps at it appreciatively. "You'll get to cum soon enough."

Ford actually _whines,_ the sound so needy that for a moment Bill wants to give in and let him have it. He almost leans down and opens his mouth to let Ford fuck into it like he so obviously wants to.

_Almost._

Instead, he slowly jerks Ford off, kissing and licking but never enough to make him cum.

Poor Sixer's so antsy, one hand on the back of Bill's head, fingers knotted in his hair. He isn't pushing, just holding on and making the most wonderful noises.

He makes lovely pleasure faces, too, all red faces and huffs of breath, lidded eyes and parted lips. Bill absently lowers his mouth to Ford's tip, sucking slowly as he watches the mortal squirm.

"Please..." Ford begs, his tone strained. _"Please_ , Bill."

He's being so good. Not once has he tried to speed up the process, despite wanting to more than anything. Wanting _Bill_ more than anything.

That's the real power trip right there. Bill holds everything he wants just out of reach, and the only way to get relief is to earn it.

_Ford's earned it_ , Bill decides, opening his mouth and taking him in one long slide.

Ford shudders, covering his mouth with one hand while the other cups the back of Bill's head. His lower half rolls lewdly into the warm wetness of Bill's mouth, and the demon makes a mental note to remind him of that later.

For now, he spoils Ford, moving his head and hands in just the right ways, tongue hot on his cock. Once or twice, he gags, but the feeling passes after a short second.

All six of Ford's fingers tangle in Bill's hair, lifting his head at an angle.

Bill's eyes roll up to the mortal's gaze, mouth full of cock. He moans slightly at the tugging sensation, and the sound hums all along Ford's dick.

Ford's breath hitches, and he stutters out a combination of a moan and a gasp as he comes. His broad chest heaves, and his hips twitch with aftershock.

Bill does his part and swallows, swiping his tongue over his lips.

Ford tastes wonderful.

Crawling up to his mouth, Bill claims his lips in a kiss, deliberately letting Ford taste himself on his tongue. Two strong hands cradle the demon's face, pulling him up and into Ford's lap.

He's warm and soft, still sensitive from orgasm. Not that Bill minds, of course, as he necks Ford like he doesn't need to breathe.

Soon enough, hickeys are blooming purple and red along the mortal's neck, and the _pièce_ _de_ _résistance_ _,_ one on his jaw.

"People will see those," Ford finally protests, drawing back and placing a hand over the mark. The _people_ in question are his lab partner and the waitress at the diner, both insignificant.

Bill dives back in for more. "Let them."

But eventually, he does pull away, pressing a kiss to Ford's cheek. It's a surprisingly sweet gesture, but humans are into that, apparently.

Ford seems to be. And if the warm feeling in Bill's own chest is anything to go by, he might be more attached to the mortal than he previously thought.

He leaves Ford in that post-orgasmic glow, nudging him out of the mindscape and into his reality.  
He watches, back in his real form, as Ford wakes up with hickeys on his neck and cum in his pants. It's almost endearing, the way his mortal sighs and fumbles for his glasses, face pink as he changes the sheets.

He's no doubt remembering the details of that dream, at least until he looks into the mirror and realizes the hickeys stuck around.

Bill watches, invisible, as Ford runs a reverent hand over those marks. He's treating them like some remnant of a sacred act, the word _worship_ buzzing around in his mind, when in reality Bill was just helping him get his rocks off.

Because honestly, what else could it be?  
  
  



	3. ford is an anime girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, i never write bottom ford. why? dunno. but today, he's chained up in the penthouse suite, and he dubiously consents to getting tentaclefucked by his douchey ex-boyfriend.
> 
> very self indulgent, very horny piece of writing. i watch a lot of hentai. (hey, bonus points if you spot what part of this i lifted from a cutscene!)
> 
> on with the show!

The collar had just enough slack to wiggle around, but not enough to help forward an escape plan. All Ford succeeded in doing was rattling those glowing chains, creating a ruckus.

The noise was loud in the empty room. It was a nice room, he'd give it that, but the couch was made of living flesh and the walls were shadowed in dark red from the fireplace.

Ford hung his head, trying to slow his breath to an even rate. He was so tired. Between the constant worrying about his family and Bill's incessant pestering, he was exhausted.  
There was still no rest, even in his dreams. Bill had made damn sure of that.

Ford clenches his hands into fists, jerking at the chains once more. One last _fuck you._

A familiar heat rises from the metal, and the next thing he knows, Bill is hovering in front of him.  
His eye is narrowed into a squint, and in his hand is a half-empty margarita. His form is larger, no longer the small, diminutive muse Ford was familiar with. Now, Bill towers over him.

"What?" he demands, tossing the glass behind him. It shatters against the wall and immediately disappears, the drink evaporating before his eyes.  
"You know what I want." Ford glares at that triangular monster, shaking his fists to give another hint.

Bill's laugh is a loud, sharp bark. "It ain't gonna happen, IQ! I need you here, and I need your mind open."  
The eye Ford's staring into is big and frightening.

And...drunk. Bill's voice slurs when he speaks, despite his best efforts.

Even though it's useless, Ford rattles his chains and shouts. "Not a chance," he snaps. "You're never getting into my mind again!" For the final blow, he reels back and spits into that huge eye, which is the worst he can manage at the moment. It's almost laughably underwhelming.

Bill just stares, dead silent, saliva sliding down his cornea. After that pause, a thick, forked tongue slides out from under his eyeball and licks the spit off its surface. Ford averts his eyes.

"Thought you did something there, didn't you, Fordsy?" Bill queries, circling him. His voice drops several octaves, and he's suddenly closer, pupil inches from Ford's face. " _Didn't you?"_

Ford knows better than to answer. He avoids the demon's question, gaze locked on the floor.  
He yelps when the chain is jerked at an angle, lifting his head until he makes eye contact with Bill.

"You listen to me, brainiac, and you listen good. You're still sucking air because I need that equation. If it weren't for that, I'd have snapped your neck like a fucking _twig."_

"I'll keep you here for years if I have to. One day you'll let me in, and I know it. I've got forever to live, Sixer. You can't say the same."

He releases Ford, who rubs at his neck irritably. "Did you have to pull me so hard?" he asks, shooting the demon a look.

Bill scoffs, eye squinting into a smile. "You like it. You've always had a thing for pain, you little freak. Don't you remember all those dreams?"

Ford does remember them, and he remembers them well. He used to deprive himself of sleep just to make those dreams last as long as they could. Red heat rises in his cheeks, and he forces it down.

"I'll take your silence as a yes!" Bill crows, slinging an arm around Ford's waist. "I know you still aren't over me, by the way. Omniscient eye, remember? I saw how you reacted to that tongue."

His hands are hot along Ford's neck. "There's more where that came from, you know," he says, his voice a low purr.   
"All you have to do is say the word."

_Yes._

_Yes, yes, a thousand times yes._

**_No!_ **

_Maybe._

_Yes._

Ford tries to pull away, but he finds himself leaning into the touch. Bill's hand scratches at his scalp, fingers threading through his hair like he's a fucking dog, and he _likes it._

He likes being this vulnerable, this helpless, and it scares him. If Bill wanted, he could kill him in one blink of that huge eye. Ford swallows thickly.

Bill pokes him in the cheek, eye squinting even more. "You're too cute, Sixer, really! All these carnal thoughts about little old me? I'm flattered!"

His tongue slides out from beneath his eyelid and licks a hot, wet stripe up Ford's neck. Warm breath huffs over his neck, a heady mixture of alcohol and blood.

Ford shivers, chains jerking.

"Just say yes, IQ, that's all I need from you." What feels like a tentacle slithers up Ford's leg, deliberately brushing over his crotch as it winds around his waist. _Lord in heaven-_

That thought cuts off abruptly when the tentacle paws at the flesh beneath his sweater. It's slick, and it trails its clear substance behind it as it slides up and over his chest.

All he has to do is say yes. He could certainly use a little pleasure to blot out the pain of past torture. Wipe the slate clean.  
The idea twists around his mind, becoming more appealing the longer he thinks about it.

Ford caves, doing his best not to arch into the touch. Not yet. "Fine, yes. Are you happy?"

Bill leers at him from above, the length of blue chain, the _leash,_ in one clawed hand. "Of course I am."

And that's all it takes. Tentacles swarm Ford's body, thick ropes of heat that strip him of both his clothes and his dignity. From what he can see, they're black with rounded, curious heads, just vaguely phallic enough to make heat pool in his abdomen.

One nudges at his face, swiping over his lips. The wetness it leaves behind has a syrupy sweetness to it, and Ford can't help but lap up some of it.  
He's barely had his mouth open before the tentacle pushes inside, seeking out his throat.

Ford gags around the length, glaring at Bill. The demon hovers innocently in the air, dilated pupil fixed on Ford. The tentacles stem from behind him, their number ever increasing.

What has he gotten himself into?

He tries to protest, but all that come out are muffled noises of indignation. And, as one tentacle finally wraps around his cock, a stifled groan of pleasure. The tentacle in his mouth shudders, spilling its sticky cum down his throat. Some of it dribbles down Ford's chin, and he makes a soft, disappointed sound.

Bill's eye lifts agreeably at the sight. "Look at you, Sixer, taking this like a champ! You're so easy to get a _rise_ out of." On the word _rise,_ the tentacle twists, jerking Ford's dick less than gently and coaxing a humiliated little moan from him.

"Oh, you can do better than that," Bill coos, settling into a rhythm. Ford's hands clench into fists, and his back arches. His body's searching for something, anything, to steady himself with, and there's nothing. How cute is that?  
"Make some more noise for me, Fordsy, I wanna hear you _scream."_

Ford jerks, feeling one thick tentacle slither over his ass. It's more lubricated than the rest, and he knows its purpose the moment it touches him. His eyes flick towards Bill, who's staring at him intensely.  
The tentacle in his mouth withdraws, finally, and Ford gasps. His tongue tastes like sugar.

"Something on your mind?" Bill asks, and the tentacle circles Ford's entrance in deliberately slow movements. Teasing, just like Bill's tone. He knows his words are flustering Ford, and he's doing it on purpose, the absolute _bastard._

Was there something on his mind? Ford honestly can't remember. Three tentacles are holding him round the waist, and one keeps flicking his nipple in a way that makes him squirm.  
Two others snake towards his ankles, pulling his legs apart.

"N-no," he manages at last. "Nothing."

"Good," is all Bill responds with, the word like a kiss on the forehead. "Good Fordsy."

A shuddery moan rips from Ford's throat as the tentacle buries itself inside of him, so suddenly and so _hotly._ It pulsates softly, sending mind-melting waves of pleasure through him. He can _feel_ it writhing inside of his body, _jesus._

He's fucked slowly, carefully, like it's an art rather than a bastardization of it. The tentacle is almost unbearably large, foreign, within him, but it keeps massaging that one spot deep inside that makes Ford weak. So, so weak.

Bill's eye is lidded, and he watches the display with rapt, undivided attention. Ford is unraveling before him, because of him, and it's absolutely _wonderful._

The leash is yanked suddenly, roughly, and Ford chokes as a tentacle shoves itself into his mouth at the same time. He's drooling, he can feel it sliding down his chin, mingling with tears.

A sharp, black claw tilts his chin up, and Bill _tsk-tsk-_ _tske_ s as he wipes away a teardrop. That tongue slides out, lapping it up from his fingertip. "You're doing so well, Stanford, you really are. You're always so good for me."

Ford can't speak. He can't close his eyes, can't look away, can't even fucking _think_ because of the brain-breaking pleasure singing along every nerve of his body. All he knows is heat, is gold, is _Bill._

"And it _is_ all for me, you know," Bill adds, as if he didn't already make that clear. As if he didn't already claim every inch of Ford's body for his own. "You've always been mine. _From now, until the end of time._ Those were the exact words."

Ford nods helplessly. At this point, whatever Bill wants, he can have. His mouth lolls open, the tentacle fucking into it like that's all he's good for. He nods again, barely managing to gasp out "yes,".

Bill's hands, four of them now, mingle with the tentacles's touches, leaving thin scratches down his back and chest as he talks. As he drawls, almost lazily. "This is something you've wanted for _years,_ Fordsy. You've wanted me to just _take you—"_ A second tentacle slides inside, and Ford nearly sobs. "—like this for so long."

Bill's right, of course. He always is. Ford writhes, crying out with every sensation. Very nearly screaming, but not quite.  
Bill seems determined to make him scream, though.

The two tentacles inside him now are thrusting alternately so he's never empty. He'll never be empty again, not when Bill's around. Ford's head hangs loosely in the demon's grasp, a stream of broken little moans and muffled praise pouring from his lips.

Bill's telling the truth, and it makes his face burn hot and red, his cock twitching with every word that he hears.  
It all blends together eventually, until Bill is just claws and tentacles and a voice that makes Ford shiver.

Bill's hand squeezes his face, and Ford gags on the tentacle in his mouth. "You're so goddamn cute," he praises, and Ford _shakes,_ overwhelmed.

He's so close, so painfully close, and Bill knows it. He's doing all this on purpose because he _knows it,_ and he wants to thoroughly break his mortal prisoner. He's upped the pace of the tentacles, each drilling into Ford so quickly and so sharply. It feels like heaven.  
One more wraps around his cock, jerking it in quick time to the thrusts. Bill gives the chain a tug, bringing Ford so close he can smell the margaritas he got drunk on an eternity ago.

Ford's eyes slide open, breath coming in short pants and expression dazed. He can barely breathe with the combination of the collar and the tentacle in his mouth, face red and absolutely humiliated.

"Cum for me, Sixer," Bill's saying, voice like honey as his eyelashes brush against Ford's cheek. "Cum for me."

And Ford obeys, the scream Bill wanted escaping him in one long cry. His back arches, and his head hangs, and tears slide from his eyes as his orgasm rips through him. He's absolutely wrecked, and he tremors with aftershock, gasping.

Bill's eye closes, eyelids shifting smoothly into lips. They press against Ford's head in a sweet, chaste little kiss, a sharp contrast to the heavenly hell he just put the man through. "Good job, IQ. You did _such_ a good job."

Ford just nods, weakly, a small smile tugging at his lips. He's filled to the brim with hot tentacle cum, flushed and sweaty all over, littered in scratches and sucked marks from the aforementioned tentacles, and he still manages to smile.

He jolts when the tentacles start moving again, rocking into him in a steady, back-and-forth motion that has him whining in seconds.  
"W-we aren't done?" he asks, eyes wide and incredulous behind his glasses. "But—"

Bill taps one sharp, clawed finger against Ford's lips, shutting him up instantly. _Good, he knows his place._ "We aren't." He slips that finger inside Ford's mouth, feeling saliva pool within. "In fact, we're only just getting started."

His pupil narrows into a thin, mischievous slit, and his eye lifts into the triangular equivalent of a smirk. "Better get comfy, Sixer, cause you and I aren't gonna be done for a _long, long time."_


End file.
